There was still a trace of confusion in Hancock's beautiful eyes—left behind by that sudden, accelerated growth—along with a deepening attachment to Rei Ao, and an awe she could no longer hide.
Rei Ao calmly appraised the flawless work of art time itself had sculpted in an instant. His gaze remained as profound and steady as ever, as if he'd merely finished something insignificant.
"The other half of the deal," he said lightly, extending a hand toward Hancock, who had already grown into an Empress.
A warm, captivating blush bloomed across Hancock's cheeks at once.
In those eyes that could make even stone-hearted people waver, shyness, joy, and resolve intertwined. She didn't hesitate for a second.
With steps that were a little stiff—yet unwavering—she walked toward the man who had given her everything and rewritten her fate, offering herself to him without holding anything back.
Outside the palace, the moonlight flowed like water, and Kuja Island remained quiet as ever.
Inside, the miracle forged by accelerated time, and an ancient bargain, were being fulfilled in the most primal—most direct—way, without a sound.
A new relationship. A new bond. Perhaps, in this unseen corner of the world, something else was quietly taking root as well.
And the colossal upheaval outside—set off by the Holy Land's disappearance—seemed, for the moment, to have nothing to do with this calm island in the Calm Belt.
…
Mary Geoise was gone.
Those seven words swept across the Grand Line faster than any storm.
The first to carry the news weren't the News Coo, but seagulls—white messengers that had long circled near the Red Line. The thunderous blast and the tsunami that day terrified them, and they scattered in every direction, shrieking sharply in cries no one could understand.
But the real shockwave began with urgent telegrams and Den Den Mushi ringing themselves hoarse.
Emergency dispatches from Marine Headquarters shot out to every branch.
Underworld bosses confirmed it through black-market channels, one after another.
And when merchant ships crossed the newborn, massive strait that now cleaved straight through the Red Line, sailors witnessed a sight they would never forget for as long as they lived.
Then, at last, the World Economy News Paper's special edition arrived.
There was no photo on the front page—rumor had it that every reporter and every photographic Den Den Mushi that tried to get close to the area simply stopped working within a certain range.
There was only a single bold headline, so shocking it made your scalp go numb:
"THE HOLY LAND DESTROYED—THE WORLD GOVERNMENT NO LONGER EXISTS!!"
Beneath it, the smaller text was vague, packed with words like "suspected," "unconfirmed," and "cause unknown."
But it was enough.
Enough to plunge the whole world into stunned disbelief—then doubt—then total, unrestrained madness.
…
The New World. The Moby Dick.
The party was at its peak.
Meat sizzled over the bonfire. Barrel after barrel was cracked open.
Laughter, singing, and clinking cups braided together as the Whitebeard Pirates' flag snapped proudly from the mast.
Edward Newgate—Whitebeard—sat in his custom chair, a massive sake bowl in hand. He listened to his sons bicker and roar, smiling with easy, generous warmth.
"Pops! Another song!"
"Yeah! Marco sings like garbage!"
First Division Commander Marco rolled his eyes in helpless irritation. "Hey, hey—you're the ones who begged me to sing, okay?"
He didn't even finish the sentence.
A News Coo wobbled down onto the railing, dropped a newspaper, and then bolted like it was fleeing for its life.
"Hm? Early today?"
One crewmate picked it up and casually handed it over, intending to toss it into the usual news pile—until his eyes accidentally caught the front page.
His hand went rigid.
The smile on his face froze solid.
"Huh? What's wrong—see a pretty bounty poster?" someone nearby teased.
The crewmate didn't answer. He only stared at the paper, eyes locked, fingers starting to tremble.
The sheet rustled softly—shh, shh.
The oddity drew attention fast.
The noise of the party began to drain away.
Marco frowned and walked over. "What is it?"
He took the paper.
One glance.
The phoenix's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
He jerked his head up toward Whitebeard. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
That face that usually wore a lazy, unbothered look had gone deathly pale.
"Marco?"
Whitebeard set his bowl down. His voice sank.
The entire deck fell completely silent.
Every captain, every crewmate sensed something was wrong, their eyes fixed on Marco—and the newspaper in his hands.
Marco drew a deep breath, as if trying to force down the roaring waves surging in his chest. Holding the paper, he walked step by step toward Whitebeard.
Each step felt unbearably heavy.
"Pops…"
His voice came out rough and dry. "…We just got this."
He paused, as if he truly didn't know how to say it.
Whitebeard reached out. That massive palm opened in front of Marco.
Marco handed the paper over.
Whitebeard took it—in his hand, the newspaper looked like a small note.
He lowered his eyes to read.
Time seemed to congeal.
The crackle of the bonfire, the slap of waves against the hull—everything became unnervingly clear.
No one breathed. All eyes stayed on their Pops.
Whitebeard's broad shoulders seemed to sink, just slightly.
Beneath his crescent-shaped mustache, his lips pressed into a thin line. His brow tightened bit by bit, knotting into a deep furrow.
In the eyes that had seen every kind of tempest the sea could throw at a man, a flash of disbelief passed first—then was swallowed by heavy confusion and grim weight.
"Gurararara…"
Whitebeard suddenly laughed.
But there was none of his usual wild, carefree bravado in it—only something heavy, something that made your heart clench.
He set the newspaper down and swept his gaze over every son on the deck waiting for answers.
"Sons," he said, his voice echoing across the silent deck.
"It looks like the sea is about to face a tsunami like it's never seen before."
"Pops, what happened?" Jozu, commander of the Third Division, couldn't hold it in.
Whitebeard handed him the paper.
Jozu took it, and the other commanders immediately crowded in.
A few seconds later—
"T-That's impossible!" Thatch cried out.
"Mary Geoise was destroyed? The World Government… is gone?"
Vista clenched his twin blades, knuckles turning white.
"What kind of joke is this? Who did it? How?"
Rakuyo swung his spiked ball, his face full of disbelief.
The deck erupted.
Shocked shouts, fierce questions, frantic guesses tangled together as…
~~~
Thank you!